Jane opened her mouth to make one last appeal to return to the stakeout, but Shelley's warning glance froze the words in her throat. When Shelley got that look, there was no changing her mind.
In spite of her worries about what was going on back at home, Jane managed to get into thespirit of shopping. A clerk was eager to help her, and unwilling to let her buy more than she could handle in the first year of gardening. Jane started accumulating little bags of bulbs that soon grew to an armful. When she dropped one, the clerk said, "Let's find something to put those in.”
Near them on the floor there was a big, round-bottomed stainless steel mixing bowl someone had used to clean up some spilled potting soil. Flecks still adhered to the inside. "Bulbs won't mind a little dirt. The outside is clean," the clerk said, holding it while Jane dumped her purchases in.
As he handed it to her, she realized too late that the outside of the bowl was a little damp and very slippery. It was also heavier than she anticipated, and slithered out of her grip. The bowl bounced, clanging, on the cement floor, and bulbs flew every which way.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am. I thought you had a hold of it," the clerk said, immediately stooping and starting to gather up the bulbs.
Jane and Shelley joined him on the floor. "It's not your fault," Shelley soothed. "She did the same thing in my kitchen the other day, but it was potato salad. A lot messier.”
Something started whirring and clicking in the back of Jane's mind.
“Jane, you could at least help," Shelley said.
“I dropped the potato salad bowl!" Jane said, sitting back on her heels and putting her hands over her eyes to shut out everything so she could listen to what was going on in her brain.
“Well, it's no big deal. It didn't break. Jane, are you crying or something?"
“No, I'm thinking.”
The clerk, by now, was looking uneasy. He put the last of the bulbs in the bowl and backed up as if ready to make a run for safety.
“Do you have a phone book here?" Jane asked him suddenly.
“Uh — yes, I think so. I'll get it for you.”
“Jane, what is it?" Shelley asked.
“I'm not sure. Just let me think this out.”
The clerk came back with the phone book, eyeing her nervously. Ignoring him, Jane starting flipping through pages. She found what she wanted and ran her finger down the column. Shelley looked over her shoulder. "Hospitals?What do you want to find a hospital for?"
“It's not here, Shelley. It's not here!”
The clerk was looking around frantically, ready to summon help if she got violent. Shelley grabbed her shoulder and shook her. "Jane, what in hell are you carrying on about?”
Jane rummaged in her purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill, which she handed to the astonished clerk. "I'm sorry, but I can't take time to buy these things today. I'll be back next week. This is for all your time and trouble. Come on, Shelley, I'll explain in the car.”
As soon as the doors closed, Jane started rattling off her thoughts so fast Shelley could hardly understand her. When she'd wound down enough for Shelley to get a word in, she said, "I don't know, Jane—"
“But it has to be. Don't you remember the order those dishes were stacked in the refrigerator? This is the only thing that could possibly explain it! We've been wrong all along about Robbie. We have to tell VanDyne before it's too late. Suppose they think it was Robbie too, and come jumping out from behind the drapes and arrest her? It would be horrible for her, and it would blow the whole plan besides."
“How do you intend to contact him? The only person who's supposed to be at my house is Edith, and I don't think the police will risk answering the phone."
“Shelley—"
“No, Jane. We promised we wouldn't go back. We promised!"
“Haven't we already done enough to Robbie? Could you ever face yourself again if she got arrested by mistake and we could have stopped it? After all she's already been through? Shelley, I'm going back. You can come with me or not."
“Dammit, Jane!All right. But we can't just drive up. We'd spoil the stakeup."
“It's stakeout. No, we'll get there the same way those men did last night. Across the field behind our houses."
“They did it at night when they couldn't be seen."
“We won't be seen either. It's tall grass. We'll crawl." She turned on the ignition and started home.
“You're insane!" Shelley shrieked, but Jane paid no attention.
It seemed a much longer trip back. Jane's driving, already frantic, wasn't improved when she realized she'd taken a wrong exit and made a U-turn on the highway to correct her error.
When they finally stopped on the shoulder of the road, Shelley was shaking.
“If you think I'm going to ruin this outfit by crawling clear across—"
“No need, Shelley. It just takes one of us to explain," Jane said. She leaped out of the car and dived into the high grass before Shelley could change her mind. She'd never realized how large this field really was until she crossed it on her hands and knees. Nor did she have any idea previously of how many nasty, prickly things grew in it. Her arms and face were crosshatched with scratches by the time she reached the edge of Shelley's backyard.
She climbed over the fence and ran for the house, then flung herself down the basement stairwell and paused to get her breath for a moment before trying the door. Thank God! It was unlocked. She stepped in, picking her way carefully through Shelley's basement and up the stairs. At the top, she waited, listening. She didn't want to suddenly appear in Shelley's kitchen right in the midst of an arrest. Nor did she want to spring the trap too soon.
Finally, hearing nothing whatsoever, she gingerly pushed the door open a crack. Nothing.Open a little bit more. Still nothing. She stuck her head through and a voice next to her ear said, "Stop right there!”
She turned and looked into the barrel of a gun. Behind it there was a young man in jeans and a T-shirt that said "Tit for Tat.”
Dear God! Had she been even more wrong than she thought? Had it been a wandering ma-niac after all? And why was he back here today? Would Thelma get to raise her children now? "We got her, sir!" he shouted.
Suddenly the room was full of men. Five other plainclothesmen — including Detective Mel VanDyne and Uncle Jim Spelling, who emerged from the broom closet spitting flame. "Jesus Christ, Janey!" Uncle Jim said. "Put that gun down, Harris. She's not the one. Not that she doesn't deserve to be shot!”
Detective VanDyne had bent over the counter and looked like he was about to start banging his head on the Formica. "I could have gone into the family's hardware business, but no-o-o, I had to go into law enforcement…”
Harris, the wandering, maniac, put away his gun and turned. The back of his shirt said, "Okay, what's a Tat?"
“Uncle Jim, we were wrong. It isn't Robbie at all—”
At that moment, everyone froze at the sound of the vacuum cleaner starting upstairs. It was obviously a signal. The men in the kitchen instantly melted away. "I don't have room for her with me," Uncle Jim said. "You take her!" With that, he got in the broom closet and closed the door behind himself.
Mel VanDyne grabbed Jane's wrist and dragged her into the living room. Two sofas faced each other in front of the fireplace. Van-Dyne crouched behind the farthest one and yanked Jane down beside him. "Not a word! Don't even breathe!" he said.
“But you have to know someth—"
“Shut up!”
Jane caught her breath. Someone had opened the kitchen door. She started to peek over the top of the sofa, but VanDyne grabbed her hair with one hand and put the other over her mouth. She subsided.